Author : Alicia Donovan (aliciawrites, lularipley)

E-mail: [email protected]

Website URL: www.isnt-it-romantic.net

Feedback: Does Vaughn need air to survive?

Distribution: Yes, you can archive this work, please email me and tell me the web address of your archival site.

Disclaimer: JJ, the rights are solely in your possession. I am but a flicker of light bouncing off the brilliance that is you (Of course if you kill off Vaughn I will hunt you down and make you scream like Will Tippin.) Alias is owned by ABC, Touchtone, is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions

Summary: Post ATY - Vaughn's back from the drink... but how has his experienced changed him? Will it affect his relationship with Syd? Count on it.

Rating: chapters will range from PG to R.

Classification: Action/ Adventure Angst Romance

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COMING UP FOR AIR

CHAPTER FOUR:
THE GHOST IN YOU

Location: Pansea Hotel, Yangon, Myanmar

He rolled away from her into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He knew she would have questions, but he wasn't prepared for the humiliation in her voice.

"It's too soon," she justified. "I shouldn't have pressed you into a situation like this. I don't know what I was thinking."

He turned abruptly. "Stop that! Damn it, Sydney. You're not making this any easier. Don't you get it? One month ago, what I just held in my hands was what I wanted more than anything in the world. But"

"But?" she asked, meekly.

"Things have changed." He stood and walked the length of the room, trying to clear his head and his libido. His mind couldn't focus on what he had to tell her when she was lying so close to him on that bed. "Look, I don't know exactly what happened between you and Noah Hicks, but I'm pretty savvy for desk jockey."

"Vaughn." Her tone told him she didn't appreciate him degrading his position. "What happened with Noah, it was a mistake, a-"

"Exactly, a mistake. I don't fault you on what happened there, he was deceptive. He used you." Vaughn raised his hands to his temples and wondered how he had acquired a headache so quickly. "Sydney, I don't want to be like Noah."

She stood and crossed to him, obviously concerned with the pained look on his face. "You could never be like him."

He put his hands up to distance her from him, as if his deception was some contagious disease she might catch. "That's where you're wrong. I was just about to we were going to and there are things that you don't know. Things that might change your opinion of me."

She shook her head. "The man I know... the man who's risked reputation and life to follow me who spends his every day searching for a way to stop evil men like Arvin Sloanethere's nothing you can say that would make me change the way I look at him." She reached up and ran her fingertips over his throbbing temple. "He's my guardian angel."

"Stop!" He pulled away. "I want thatI want to be all those things you see. But when I tell you what I've learned these past few weekswhen I tell you where I've been I don't know if you'll be able to say the same thing."

She stood in front of him, steadfastly, her arms at her sides, her face a blank canvas. "Tell me. Whatever it is, Vaughn, I know you've stood beside me through worse. I'm not going anywhere."

"All right, it's time, but not here." He opened the hotel room door. "C'mon, let's go talk somewhere without a bed in it. A place that doesn't make me question my sanity every five seconds."

She smiled so sweetly it pained him. He couldn't help but wonder if it she would ever offer him the like again.

Sydney was just about to follow Vaughn out into the lush garden of the Pansea Hotel, when a figured entered the doorway in front of them, stopping their departure from the room.

"Agent Vaughn," said Sark. "My employer grows weary of waiting on you. She's sent me to tell you your time is up. You'll be returning with me both of you."

Sydney automatically took a defensive stance behind Vaughn. She was not going anywhere with Sark. She certainly wasn't going to let him shanghais them to her mother's latest lair. "My mother underestimated us if all she sent was you to bring us back."

Sark's eyes went immediately to Vaughn. "You haven't told her yet?" A smirk crossed his lips.

"I was just about to," Vaughn answered in a defeated tone.

"Vaughn?" Syd asked.

"No matter," Sark said. "You'll have plenty of time to talk on the flight to Los Angeles."

No, she wasn't going back to LA. It had taken her weeks to finally separate herself from that life...to separate herself from that business.

Vaughn turned to her, his eyes filled with a request for understanding. But she had none. What did he want her to do? Follow Sark? Was this some kind of operation? Perhaps he had infiltrated her mother's ranks and was working it from this inside, waiting for back up to bring the plan to fruition. Was she his back up?

"I need more time," Vaughn told Sark.

Sark pulled his gun back, clicking the safety into place. "We leave in twenty minutes. Whatever must be discussed, will be of that length or less or it will go unsaid until we are in the air. Do you understand?"

Sark was giving in? Why was everything suddenly making no sense at all? Surely if he left them alone in the room they could devise an escape plan. He was smarter than that, she was sure of it.

"Thank you," Vaughn said, nodded his head and slowly closed the door. "Sydney"

She waved her hands in the air as if to silence his apologies. "We have twenty minutes. Start talking."

..

Taipei

His lungs burned, his chest rattled convulsively with every breath - but there was breath. He was breathing. He was alive. His hands were tired behind his back and he was lying face first on a very thin mattress on a cold stone floor.

He twisted his aching body until he could get a better view at his surroundings. Nothing but damp rock and cement and a flimsy looking wooden door with an aged lock. If he had been in prime shape and unbound, it would have fallen quickly with small effort. As it was, he could barely sit upright.

Breaths were deeper now. Controlled coughing was expelling some of the wretched fluid from his lungs. His back was propped against the stone wall, facing the door, waiting for the inevitable.

And it came the rattle of the handle, the turn of the lock. The shadow of a petite figure crossed the room. A tray in her hands. Some kind of oriental servant?

"I'm glad to see you're awake, Agent Vaughn," she said. "I was worried it might take you longer to recuperate."

Her voice was somewhat familiar, an Eastern European accent, hints of Americanized Russian. "Who are you?"

She stepped closer and crouched to the ground a few feet in front of him, placing the tray on the floor. "I have many names," she said, "but you may call me Laura."

He was stunned by the woman before him. She was the image of Sydney, an older, harder Sydney. There was no play of softness in her features, where there should have been laugh lines, her face held creases that sloped downward. Even in his condition, he had no doubt of her identity. "Laura Bristow."

She smiled and it struck him hard. If he had not known of the evil she had propagated on him and his family, he would have been warmed by that familiar grin. He craved it more than a soft bed, a hot meal and a bottle of chardonnay.

Physically shaking the feeling of comfort that radiated from her from his mind, he sat taller. This woman was responsible for his worst nightmare. She killed someone he loved and"Where's Sydney?" he demanded.

"Her father is seeing her safely home. It's not time for she and I to join our efforts just yet. First, I thought you and I would get to know each other better."

Vaughn turned away. "I know everything I need to know about you."

Laura reached out to him and gently tugged at his chin, asking him to look at her. He refused. "Agent Vaughn, what you know about me is only what they allow you to know about me."

She had his attention, his eyes snapped to her. "Allow?"

"Don't you find it the least bit odd that Devlin assigned you as Sydney's handler when he knew full well that your father had been my- I'm getting ahead of myself. Suffice to say, your employers have given you only the most basic of truths. Over the next few days I will give you every comprehensive detail."

He stared at her hard. Trying desperately to see the woman he had hated most of his life in the eyes that looked remarkably like the woman he loved. "There is only one detail I care about, Laura, the fact that you murdered my father."

His words affected her. He could see her eyes cloud over with some emotion - grief, remorse, he wasn't sure. "We will talk after you've eaten. I'm going to untie you, but I warn you that there are guards outside your door. I don't wish to treat you like a prisoner, Michael. In time, I think you will find yourself more comfortable as a guest here."

She reached behind him and quickly slid a knife across the ropes. His hands released, he was finally free to put them around the neck of the woman who had been the bane of his existence. But he didn't move. The revenge inside battled so fiercely with the familiar tug at his soul he could not move.

"Good." She smiled. The food is hot. And the tea will help your chest heal. We'll talk more in the morning."

As she was leaving he heard her tell the guards to have comfortable bedding brought in. Had he never known of her vice, he would have thought her kind and considerate, a charming hostess.

The next morning the two Asian guards entered at sunrise and pulled him to his feet. Their countenances void of any emotion, he wondered if he was headed to meet his fate. They tossed him into the back of a van and drove for a half hour or more before stopping. When he exited he was shocked to see they had left the teeming city of Taipei. Their surroundings were green and tropical. There was only one building of bamboo construction in his line of sight and the guards drew him closer to it. When they entered they immediately took him to a room in the back of the structure. A bedroom, complete with full sized four-poster bed, washstand and a selection of clean clothes.

Though he despised his hostess, he was eager for some semblance of comfort. When his escorts left he washed spot washed himself with the clean water and shed the now tattered leather for Dockers and a loose golf shirt. They fit remarkably well.

Several hours later the door pulled aside and she entered. "You look well rested. Are you breathing easier this morning?"

He nodded curtly.

"I have a story to tell you, Michael. Will you hear it out?" she asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

She smiled again. How he hated when she did that. "No, I'm afraid not. May I?" She motioned to the bed and he nodded an agreement that she may sit. He remained standing at its foot.

"As I eluded to yesterday, the stories you have been told about me have been incomplete. The fact of the matter is, Agent Vaughn, that I was undercover KGB intelligence. What you do not know, is that I was also CIA intelligence."

"You were a double agent," he said blandly. "You expect me to believe you were working for the CIA. Why wouldn't your husband, a CIA operative himself, have known? Why would you have killed my father, a colleague? Your story is full of holes lady."

She patted the mattress next to her. "Please, sit. You look very uncomfortable."

He didn't know why, but he sat.

"Jack was a double agent attempting to bring about the demise of SD-6. I was a double agent with a similar agenda, but my goal was disabling the KGB. You see, being an American mother and wife, I gain some persuasive perspective on your country. Every day I would see atrocities performed by my countrymen, while men like Jack Bristow struggled to maintain a land of freedom. Our missions had to remain separate or our efforts would have become futile."

Vaughn looked away. It was a lovely, patriotic story, but she was a teacher of literature - she knew how to spin a tale.

"When I entered the CIA," she said, "it was your father who took my statement."

His father? This had his attention. If he listened hard, this is where he would find the error in her storytelling. He knew as much as a son of an intelligence operative could possibly know about his father.

"Devlin later had him assigned as my handler," she continued.

Her handler? The familiarly of the situation beckoned to him, but he didn't want to believe. He couldn't believe.

"I have proof. Your father kept a journal. There are entries in this journal in which he refers to the savant. Here he is referencing Milo Rimbaldi. You may have also seen references to Solie-Luna. It was my codename - Italian for the sun and moon. The KGB had amassed a large collection of the artifacts and it was my job to retrieve them, one by one. Sadly, I believe it was through me that Arvin Sloane unearthed the information and adopted his own obsession with the illustrious Italian."

He had not spoken. He had not even thought of words to utter. The information she was providing was valid. He had memorized the diary, just as he had memorized every word Sydney had ever spoken to him. Things he had long ago dismissed as indecipherable were suddenly making more sense than anything he had ever read.

"Michael." She reached out across the mattress, but did not attempt to touch him. "For hundreds of years the armies and intelligence of every civilization have been attempting to harness Rimbaldi's formula. There is only one that can see it through - any other will annihilate their own people in the try. This is not for KGB, K-Directorate, SD-6, FTL, United Statesit is for all humankind. I am not evil. Though I've had to use unfortunate tactics, the result I seek is universal peace."

She stood then and faced him. "I know this is much to accept and there is much more for us to discuss, but I feel you must take some time to absorb what you've learned. I'll return and answer any questions you may have." She walked to the door and before she slid it shut she added, with a smile, "Oh, and I'll have lunch brought to you shortly. You must be starving!"

No wonder Sydney struggled so hard with the truth about her mother. He was struggling and he'd only known her a day. Could it be possible that the woman truly was on a quest for peace? That she had honestly been the devoted mother and wife, but opted for a noble path? The facts he knew about The Man were hard to reconcile, yet when taking a closer look, it was clear that she had tried to use acceptable rather than deadly force whenever possible.

"And my father?" he asked her that evening over a shared meal. "Were you responsible for his death?"

She bowed her head over the fried rice dish. "Yes, but not in the manner they have told you. That mission was dangerous. I was after the prophecy document and the road to it had been laden with traps. I knew that my chances of survival were minimal, I'd even had Devlin and Billyour dad write out a plan to explain Laura's untimely death."

Laura raised her wine glass to her lips and took a short sip. "Your father was a brave man and a smart man. He refused to sit idly by, even though his superiors insisted that he follow protocol, he followed me instead.

I'll admit things did run more smoothly with him at my side. The document was ours and we were just seconds from our rendezvous, but it seems we had underestimated the strength of the KGB. There was a second unit. We had no information on themthey appeared from nowhere. Your father was hit in the crossfire. I survived.

The CIA later decided that I had turned traitorthat's when Khasinau helped me flee. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, leaving Sydney and Jack behind."

..

Pansea Hotel

"A fairy tale," Sydney said bitterly. "She was always good at telling fairy tales."

Vaughn sat down next to her on the hotel bed. "What if it's true? When Jack told you about your mother, every feeling in you revolted. You couldn't reconcile the fact that the woman you had known could possible be the woman responsible for all that evil. You're instincts have always been your best ally maybe it's time to trust them when it counts most."

"She's brainwashed you."

"No." He took her hand. "I've never been more sure. There's more, more that" He looked at his watch. "More that I don't have time to tell you now, but I will. When you hear it all, you'll see what I see. She needs you, Sydney. I need you."

"You?" she asked, confused.

"Don't let my father's death be a lie. Don't let them control us. Sydney, don't you think it's the least bit strange that the CIA allowed me, the son of the man your mother supposedly shot become your handler? They planned it all. They've been orchestrating our every move."

That much she believed. Even if everything Vaughn had said about her mother was false, the fact of the matter was, the CIA had been keeping secrets from them for a long time.

"I'll go to LA," she agreed. "But I won't promise you any more than that."

"Sydney it was never my intention to keep the truth from you. I just didn't know how to tell you and seeing you againfor a few days, I didn't care about any of this mess. Just you."

She couldn't look at him. She didn't know what she wanted from him. She didn't know if she could trust him anymore. "I wish you'd never found me."

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